關(guān)于經(jīng)典英文詩(shī)歌朗誦精選
關(guān)于經(jīng)典英文詩(shī)歌朗誦精選
詩(shī)歌是一個(gè)國(guó)家語(yǔ)言的濃縮 ,它以最凝煉的文字傳遞了時(shí)間與空間、物質(zhì)與精神、理智與情感 ,其中的文化因素是理解和欣賞詩(shī)歌的關(guān)鍵。學(xué)習(xí)啦小編整理了關(guān)于經(jīng)典英文詩(shī)歌，歡迎閱讀!
關(guān)于經(jīng)典英文詩(shī)歌篇一
So we'll go no more a roving
by George Gordon， Lord Byron
So， we'll go no more a roving
So late into the night，
Though the heart be still as loving，
And the moon be still as bright.
For the sword outwears its sheath，
And the soul wears out the breast，
And the heart must pause to breathe，
And love itself have rest.
Though the night was made for loving，
And the day returns too soon，
Yet we'll go no more a roving
By the light of the moon.
關(guān)于經(jīng)典英文詩(shī)歌篇二
Sojourns in the Parallel World
by Denise Levertov
We live our lives of human passions，
cruelties， dreams， concepts，
crimes and the exercise of virtue
in and beside a world devoid
of our preoccupations， free
from apprehension——though affected，
certainly， by our actions. A world
parallel to our own though overlapping.
We call it "Nature"; only reluctantly
admitting ourselves to be "Nature" too.
Whenever we lose track of our own obsessions，
our self-concerns， because we drift for a minute，
an hour even， of pure (almost pure)
response to that insouciant life：
cloud， bird， fox， the flow of light， the dancing
pilgrimage of water， vast stillness
of spellbound ephemerae on a lit windowpane，
animal voices， mineral hum， wind
conversing with rain， ocean with rock， stuttering
of fire to coal——then something tethered
in us， hobbled like a donkey on its patch
of gnawed grass and thistles， breaks free.
No one discovers
just where we've been， when we're caught up again
into our own sphere (where we must
return， indeed， to evolve our destinies)
——but we have changed， a little.
關(guān)于經(jīng)典英文詩(shī)歌篇三
Some Kinds of Fire
by Tina Cane
Anna Akhmatova burned
her poems and the light of Madrid was like water
at La Latina luncheonette I ate a cup of chocolate
and a motor oil churro
every day for a week
recovering
……the cherry bomb alley that was our street
Hotel Chelsea ablaze from a rum-soaked pillow and a cigarette， 1977
iron balconies were dropping like lace
windows were popping like sobs……
"Can you describe this?" someone asked
Anna Akhmatova
as she stood on line "Yes"
she said "I can"
關(guān)于經(jīng)典英文詩(shī)歌篇四
Some Things Don't Make Any Sense at All
by Judith Viorst
My mom says I'm her sugarplum.
My mom says I'm her lamb.
My mom says I'm completely perfect
Just the way I am.
My mom says I'm a super-special wonderful terrific little guy.
My mom just had another baby.
Why?
關(guān)于經(jīng)典英文詩(shī)歌篇五
Someone
by Dennis O'Driscoll
someone is dressing up for death today， a change of skirt or tie
eating a final feast of buttered sliced pan， tea
scarcely having noticed the erection that was his last
shaving his face to marble for the icy laying out
spraying with deodorant her coarse armpit grass
someone today is leaving home on business
saluting， terminally， the neighbours who will join in the cortege
someone is paring his nails for the last time， a precious moment
someone‘s waist will not be marked with elastic in the future
someone is putting out milkbottles for a day that will not come
someone‘s fresh breath is about to be taken clean away
someone is writing a cheque that will be rejected as ‘drawer deceased’
someone is circling posthumous dates on a calendar
someone is listening to an irrelevant weather forecast
someone is making rash promises to friends
someone‘s coffin is being sanded， laminated， shined
who feels this morning quite as well as ever
someone if asked would find nothing remarkable in today‘s date
perfume and goodbyes her final will and testament
someone today is seeing the world for the last time
as innocently as he had seen it first
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